16 July 2008
By HRM Deborah
I happened to meet a lovely woman with her granddaughter, when I was at the booksellers; the granddaughter was born with Cerebral Palsy.
While we were having a nice visit, thinking of her granddaughter’s condition it did remind me of a girl when I was trying to further my public education for a second time and while our friendship was a short one, because her condition was apparently getting worse and she had to leave school, never to see her agian.
It was not long after this, that I too did not get to finish either, for my mother was succumbing to her assassination by poisoning.
But what was hard for me, talking to this woman and her granddaughter, I just could not say, what happened to my friend or that I had to leave school because of my mother; for it always seems better to share good things then sorrow.
I think of times, when I have had to tell people bad news, it always reminds me of the U.S. during World War 2, when the Western Union delivery people would have telegrams from the war department or the Red Cross that someone’ s husband, son and so forth has died.
Kind of like the telegram delivery men with there ever rolling bicycles, where the grim reaper, readying themselves towards the unsuspecting door or a wife or mother looking out the window in horror. Otherwise, while I have to give people bad news sometime’s, if it is not necessary, why do so.
By HRM Deborah
I happened to meet a lovely woman with her granddaughter, when I was at the booksellers; the granddaughter was born with Cerebral Palsy.
While we were having a nice visit, thinking of her granddaughter’s condition it did remind me of a girl when I was trying to further my public education for a second time and while our friendship was a short one, because her condition was apparently getting worse and she had to leave school, never to see her agian.
It was not long after this, that I too did not get to finish either, for my mother was succumbing to her assassination by poisoning.
But what was hard for me, talking to this woman and her granddaughter, I just could not say, what happened to my friend or that I had to leave school because of my mother; for it always seems better to share good things then sorrow.
I think of times, when I have had to tell people bad news, it always reminds me of the U.S. during World War 2, when the Western Union delivery people would have telegrams from the war department or the Red Cross that someone’ s husband, son and so forth has died.
Kind of like the telegram delivery men with there ever rolling bicycles, where the grim reaper, readying themselves towards the unsuspecting door or a wife or mother looking out the window in horror. Otherwise, while I have to give people bad news sometime’s, if it is not necessary, why do so.
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